I Know What You Did Last Summer
by JellyLollie
Summary: Inspired by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello's song of the same name. Rated M for sex.


_He knows. Every once in a while, you go through a whirlpool of emotions and you imagine that he figured it out. And then you come back to your senses and realize that he's as oblivious as always._

The waiter comes back to fill your wine glass. You didn't even realize you had emptied it already. Slow down, dinner has just started.

 _Slow down, you think as soon as he's trapped you between himself and the wall. But when his mouth is suckling on your pulse and his fingers are tracing lines down your spine, you just shudder and take it all in._

How's the chicken? He asks.

 _Your zipper comes undone and the dress slides off your shoulder. You feel his fingers lightly tracing the lower part of your breast through the fabric of your clothes. You moan. It never ceases to amaze you how he can be harsh and gentle at the same time. He kisses with lustful passion just as carries you to the other room like the most precious cargo in the world._

A little dry, you say. You chug it down with a little bit of wine.

 _Your dress comes off at the same time as his shirt. You run your fingers up his naked torso. His creamy skin is cold to the touch. Your nails mark him with red lines. He groans and you feel the sound reverberating through his chest._

He asks if you want to order another dish. So kind. Always so nice. That's one of the things you fell in love with. And now, here you are.

 _He grabs your wrists when you reach for his pants. He pins you down and stops you from moving. He dominates you. Marks you. His body weights over yours. His lips press against yours. His tongue claims your mouth. You're at his mercy._

To be honest, you couldn't care less about your food. But you know why he looks concerned. Of course he wants everything to be perfect tonight. You're not stupid; you know what day it is.

 _You're naked on your bed, and so is he. The discarded pieces of clothing lay as silent witnesses on the floor. When he first enters you, you feel it in waves of pleasure spreading from your core to the extremities of your nerve endings._

Do you remember our first date? He asks. And you nod with a smile. You remember. It was a long time ago. Exactly five years, but who's counting? You are. And so is he.

 _Your bodies are intertwined. He's pressing his face to your neck; his breath is hot against your skin. Your hands are gripping the silky strands of his hair. There are spots of light coming from the streets reflected on the ceiling. You try to focus on those when the sensations are overwhelming and you feel like you'll pass out. One, two. Three shapes. Four little shapes and a big one right in the middle._

Things were different back then. You were different.

 _All your muscles are tense and your lugs are burning. You scream incoherently to the room. You arch your back. He hits you deeper every time he moves._

You two finish your food while still reminiscing about your past together. They are fond memories for him. They are like knifes stabbing your chest for you.

 _Your pants are erratic, hoarse cries that go on until you don't recognize your voice anymore. You get slammed repeatedly._

He asks for dessert. You say you don't want anything. He says you can share. And you can't say no to those eyes. They are full of endearment. Full of love.

 _You know he's close when he speeds up. He holds your shoulders and you know it will leave marks. His hips move in a shorter, quicker pattern. But he still thrusts just as hard. And you meet every push with a counter of your own._

He rubs the back of his neck. He always does that when he's nervous. And you know what's coming.

 _He lets you have it first. It rips through your body with such intensity that you unconsciously pull yourself off the mattress. He grabs you by the neck as he shudders. You feel yourself constricting around him and he hammers into you. Then, the hot spurt fills your core, and you feel like you're melting form the inside._

You excuse yourself from the table. You grab your purse and head straight to the ladies room.

 _When you're done, he makes some joke that you don't laugh at, and he starts to dress himself. You continue to lie there, watching him quietly for a moment before rolling out of bed and walking to the adjacent bathroom._

As soon as you lock yourself up in one of the stalls, you're on your knees with your head over the toilet throwing up. The familiar taste of bile spreads through your mouth.

 _You keep the shower as hot as it gets, and it hurts your sensitive skin. It takes a moment for you to get used to it._

You go to the sink and clean yourself. When you look up, your reflection is staring at you. And you can sense that it's judging you. You can't even defend yourself.

 _You rub every inch of your skin. You drench your hair with the whole bottle of shampoo. You beg the water to wash away your sins._

You open your purse and look for your lipstick. But you find something else. You hid it in there because you didn't want anyone else to find. And the red line mocks you.

 _When you leave the steamy shower wrapped in your thick old robe, the apartment is already empty._

You reaply your makeup, close your purse and walk back to your table.

 _You don't have to look around to know that he's gone._

His dessert arrived. He saves you the first bite.

 _You take the bedclothes and throw them in the washing machine. With a press of a button, it comes to life and the tub starts filling with water._

He's touching his neck again and averting his eyes. You can see he's nervous, but don't comment on it. You already know what's going to happen.

 _Maybe it's just in your head, but it feels like his scent is everywhere, and it's intoxicating. You open the windows to let the night breeze into your apartment._

He pulls out a small jewelry box. You hold your breath. He gets on one knee. He says something, but the buzzing in your head makes it hard to understand.

 _Soon enough, all traces of him ever being there with you are gone._

He opens the box. It's a ring.

 _You've done it too many times to know how this works by then._

The same ring you found in one of his drawers while you cleaned your apartment.

 _You call him, or he decides to show up unannounced. You talk about something irrelevant first. You fuck. He leaves._

Will you marry me?

 _Rinse and repeat. It's an unending cycle._

Yes.

Of course you will marry him.

* * *

 **I know who he and _he_ are, and it breaks my heart. Also, writing in italic feels quite intimate. **


End file.
